Waltz of Love
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: A recluse ventures out of hiding to meet Christian, who suddenly grows much less comfortable with a teen's misplaced crush on him.  Follows 'Love Defies Logic'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _If you've read Christian's bio on FictionPress, you might remember a chance encounter he had one day. This story is the "conclusion" of that encounter, in a way. (Don't forget, if you are sending me a PM, just send it directly to my e-mail if you have it, or leave a review. FF and Juno still don't get along.) Thanks as ever to the usual suspects (smile)! _

* * *

§ § § -- July 10, 2004 

Since Leslie had gone on maternity leave, it had become Roarke's habit to personally greet each party of arriving guests at the plane dock every Saturday, let them know what time he'd like to have them come to the main house, and then have natives guide them to the waiting cars that would take them and their luggage to their bungalows. This morning the process went as usual with his first party of guests; but the second, a solitary older man, was decidedly uncommunicative. He merely nodded when Roarke suggested he come to the main house around ten, and when Roarke asked if he needed anything else, the man only shook his head and murmured something that might have been a thanks.

Roarke reflected on his way back to the house that this fantasy was going to be more than a little interesting, and possibly a bit difficult in the face of his guest's reticence. He wondered with some concern whether he might even be able to pull it off at all: for his guest was Jan-Martin Asplundh, the reclusive composer whose work so captivated Christian, and the man's fantasy—at least as stated—was to finally meet the prince in person.

‡ ‡ ‡

"Please sit down, Mr. Asplundh," Roarke invited. "May I get you anything?"

"No, but I thank you," Asplundh replied. The strength of his _jordisk_ accent surprised Roarke somewhat; he had thought for some reason that the man might be more comfortable in the use of English. But then again, he was a recluse, and undoubtedly had little reason to try to perfect his command of the language. "You wish to speak with me?"

Roarke smiled. "Yes, I am quite curious for more details in regard to your fantasy," he said. "As I'm sure you know, Prince Christian is my son-in-law, and lately he's been on leave from his business, helping my daughter to care for their infant triplets."

"Yes, yes, I am aware of all that," Asplundh said with a touch of impatience. "I want only to know if His Highness will have any time to spare from his wife and children to meet with me." His expression softened for a moment, and Roarke caught a glimpse of far more than the composer himself knew he was revealing. "They are beautiful babies," he said softly. "Fitting offspring for the prince." Then he came back to the moment, and the shutters closed once more, masking all that Roarke had seen. "How long does His Highness plan to remain on leave?"

"Through the summer, I understand," Roarke replied. "But there is certainly no reason he would be unable to meet you. In fact, I daresay he would be eager to do so."

Asplundh didn't react to this, and Roarke wondered just for a moment what sort of man he was really dealing with. After a moment he said, as if Roarke hadn't mentioned this, "Will I have complete privacy and quiet in order to work on my newest composition, then? The conditions under which I can work must be strictly controlled to my specifications, and if there is anything wrong with them, you will know about it."

"Which," said Roarke smoothly, "is why I have put you in the Hilltop Bungalow, Mr. Asplundh. It's set away from the other bungalows, in a grove of trees, overlooking the ocean. Little traffic goes that way, other than my own employees, whom I will send out periodically to replenish whatever supplies you use during your stay. If you wish, I can put a jeep at your disposal, so that you may take the occasional break if you choose."

Asplundh sat in silence, apparently thinking this over, then met Roarke's gaze and nodded. "Very well, I accept," he said. "If you please, I should like to go there now."

Roarke frowned slightly. "If that is your wish," he said, "then by all means you may do so…although I had hoped to speak with you in regard to your fantasy."

Asplundh, who had braced his hands on the arms of his chair in order to get up, paused to stare at Roarke. "Precisely what is there to talk about, Mr. Roarke?"

"Had you not wished to meet Christian as soon as possible?" Roarke inquired, truly puzzled. "That, at least, was my interpretation."

Asplundh looked away. "Not immediately, Mr. Roarke, no," he said shortly. "I am not ready as yet to meet His Highness." He got up, took several steps towards the foyer, then stopped and gave Roarke a look that the latter man imagined was meant to be apologetic, but didn't appear so. "Forgive me," he said, "I am fatigued from the long journey, and I need rest. I'm no longer a young man, as I'm sure you can see."

"I am more than willing to respect your privacy, Mr. Asplundh," Roarke said, "and I might add that I am no stranger to such requests. In fact, you have that in common with Christian, whose privacy is very dear to him. However, I caution you not to remain secretive for very long. I can't help you if you are unwilling to share your thoughts."

"In time, Mr. Roarke," Asplundh said gruffly. "But not yet."

Roarke nodded slowly. "Very well, Mr. Asplundh," he said. "If there is anything you need in the meantime, please let me know." The composer nodded back, then left the room without another word. Roarke watched him leave, then shook his head and reached for the phone. He had business to conduct, but the problem of Jan-Martin Asplundh would never be far from his mind for some time to come, he knew.

‡ ‡ ‡

Christian and Leslie were at that moment playing with their six-week-old triplets in the babies' room, while Ingrid was busily cleaning the living room and doing laundry. All three babies were now starting to vocalize spontaneously, making funny little cooing noises that had both parents captivated. Karina and Susanna seemed to prefer long vowel sounds, with lots of "ahhhhs" that Leslie had joked were in imitation of Christian's habit of using the "ah" interjection; Tobias, on the other hand, was a grunter. Most of the time this tended to happen after he burped, but now he had begun to do so just for its own sake.

At the moment Christian and Leslie sat on the floor Indian-style, holding the triplets in their laps; the babies were facing their parents, gazing up at them, listening to their running commentary on anything and everything, and sometimes making noises that got huge grins from their mother and father. "And someday soon," Leslie was saying brightly, "Daddy will take you to work and show you how he fixes computers and makes pretty websites for lots of people, and Mommy will take you to your grandfather's house and you'll get to see what he does, and what Mommy does to help him…"

"Mommy likes to travel back in time," Christian interjected, ostensibly talking to the triplets, but slanting a teasing glance at Leslie.

"Mommy's going to send Daddy back in time to sword-fight with his ancestor King Snake's Beard if he doesn't behave himself," singsonged Leslie, returning his look, and then they began to laugh at each other. Leslie glanced purely coincidentally at Karina and gasped. "Christian, look, _look!_ She's smiling!!"

"What?" he exclaimed and caught sight of Karina himself. There was indeed a smile on the infant's face, as if in response to her parents' laughter. Karina blinked up at them, the smile fading, an almost quizzical expression on her face now that made Christian laugh again. "Yes, that's right, Karina, you smiled at us, and it made us happy!" he assured her.

Tobias grunted as though dismissing his sister's achievement, and Christian and Leslie both laughed again. Susanna seemed to be watching all this, and when her eye caught Leslie's, she released a little cooing call that made Leslie giggle yet again. And one more time, Karina smiled, exciting her parents all over again.

In the midst of all this laughter and playing, they heard the doorbell ring; the triplets all started, another reflex Christian and Leslie had learned was normal to all young babies. "I expect that's Janine," said Christian.

"That's right, I'd forgotten she was coming today," Leslie realized. She glanced at him thoughtfully and added, "Do you want me to take care of it?"

"What, you mean in light of her crush? I really think it's harmless," he said and gave a shrug, carefully laying Tobias on his stomach on a nearby quilt and then climbing to his feet. "You can come with me if you're feeling threatened in any way…"

Leslie rolled her eyes. "By a sixteen-year-old girl? Go ahead if you want, my love. But I have to tell you, it'll be nice when Ingrid gains enough fluency in English that we can let her deal with Janine from that point on." Christian chuckled and leaned down long enough to kiss the top of her head, then left the room.

Downstairs, Ingrid had already let Janine in and gone back to her housework; Christian glanced around the living room and gave Ingrid a nod and smile of approval before going on to the kitchen where Janine waited. The girl lit up when she saw him; he wondered, now that Roarke had let them in on Janine's feelings for him, how long she'd been doing that, and what else about her reactions to him that he was going to notice. "Hi, Mr. Enstad!" Janine greeted him brightly.

"Hello, Janine," Christian replied with a smile. _And now that I know, am I going to let it influence the way I treat her? No one can ever say I gave any undue attention to this girl. She's a child with a crush, and that's all there is to it._ But he took care to keep his smile impersonal anyway. Being a public figure from birth had taught him how to handle such things. "Just the usual today."

"Sure," said Janine, picking up the list from the table and accepting the keys he handed her. "Did you get a chance to watch the Pops on TV last week?"

Christian looked blankly at her, then remembered what she'd talked about the previous Saturday. "Oh, yes, the celebrations in Boston. No, our schedules really don't allow for much television nowadays. I hope you were able to watch, though."

Janine sighed heavily and admitted, "By the time I figured out the stupid TV system on this island, I'd already missed it. God, Mr. Enstad, I can't tell you how much I wish I could go back home. I think I'm the most homesick person in the world." She glanced at him curiously and remarked, "I bet you know just how I feel, don't you?"

Christian, about to go through the bills to see what was due, paused and gave her another blank look. "Hm?"

"Being homesick," Janine said. "You must really miss Lilla Jordsö."

"Oh, at times," Christian said and shrugged. "But I'm in frequent touch with my family there, and one of my nieces moved here as well to get married, so I'm not totally alone here. In any case, I have my wife—she's very much the reason I left."

"Oh," said Janine, and he saw her bite her lip. "Wow. It's hard to imagine loving someone enough to move to a whole 'nother country just for them."

Christian chuckled. "Perhaps it will happen to you too, you never know. Well, thank you again." Janine took the subtle hint and departed, and Christian sighed gently. At least today she hadn't offered any edible treats! Shaking his head and smiling wryly to himself, he pulled out two bills and set them aside to write checks for, later in the day.

He found Leslie changing Susanna's diaper upstairs; Tobias and Karina were both in their cribs, Karina apparently waiting her turn to be changed and Tobias nearly asleep. She looked up when he came in. "Hi, my love," she said with a smile.

"Hello, my Rose," he replied and kissed her. "I suppose they finally got tired."

"Yep," she said. "You know, I forgot to mention last night after I got off the phone with Michiko that she's extended her stay here to the end of the summer. She's thinking about having another get-together, all of us—our friends, wives and husbands both, and everyone's kids."

"That's ambitious," Christian commented. "Where does she envision having this?"

"She didn't say," said Leslie. "I have a feeling she might try to talk her parents into being the hosts. Noelle and Alexander are actually their grandchildren, but since Toki and Myeko divorced, Myeko doesn't really talk to the Tokitas anymore. Michiko says her mom and dad usually see only Toki's children by his second wife—four boys now."

"Hm," Christian mused. "So in reality, this is a ploy for Michiko's parents to see their two lost grandchildren." He grinned.

Leslie smiled back and said, "Well, maybe partly. It's a sad story though. Michiko's parents are really nice people. Her dad was the sheriff for years, and he was well-liked around the island. Mrs. Tokita's very Japanese. She speaks English, but she's not truly comfortable in the language, which is why Michiko and her siblings were all raised bilingual."

"Ah, I see," said Christian. "Well, it sounds like fun, if she and her parents don't mind a lot of infants around—especially if this doesn't take place until Grady and Maureen's baby arrives. Speaking of which…if I remember my last conversation with Grady correctly, Maureen is overdue. It was my understanding that she was to give birth around the fifth."

"Oh, you know babies, arriving on their own schedule," said Leslie. "Mom used to tell me that Kristy and Kelly were born a week before the doctor said they would be—and that was even more premature than they should've been."

"And what of you?" Christian inquired with a grin.

Leslie grinned back and said, "I was born exactly when I was supposed to be born. Father told Mom when she came to the island that I was going to be born on May 6, and he was right."

Christian snorted, making her laugh as she began dressing Susanna. "I'm sure she had a different due date before Mr. Roarke predicted your birth for her! What was it?"

"I was actually about fifteen days late, according to Mom's doctor's prediction," said Leslie. "Maybe she made a mistake in calculating conception or something. The last time I talked to Maureen, she said that she could pin down to the day when she thinks this baby was conceived, but because of the way doctors calculate it, she's 'officially' late. She's convinced she's right on schedule."

The phone rang just about then, and Christian left the room to answer it. Leslie finished dressing Susanna and laid her in the crib, and lifted Karina to check her diaper just as her husband returned with the cordless phone to his ear. "Well, I think we can do that," he was saying, "but how does Brianna feel about it?"

Leslie glanced curiously at him before settling Karina onto the changing table and pulling apart the snaps on her daughter's sleeper. "You, baby girl, are in dire need of a change, I can tell," she teased the baby, who gazed up at her, kicking her feet. "I could smell you across the room, you know that?" She grinned, and to her delight Karina smiled back. One day, Leslie thought with happy anticipation, Karina and the other triplets would smile of their own accord. Though right now the baby smiled merely in response to hers or Christian's smiles, that was more than enough.

"She did?" said Christian into the phone. "Well, if she'd really rather stay with us than over at Nick and Myeko's…" Leslie heard the sound of Grady's voice for a second and looked up again; she met Christian's gaze and he winked, making her smile. "All right, then, she's welcome to stay. She may be very bored, though, so you might suggest she pack some books or something to play with. Oh, I know, but just in case."

Leslie pulled the sleeper away from Karina and began undoing the diaper, while Christian went on, "Well enough. Okay, then, bring her over anytime you like. All right, we'll talk later." He clicked off and looked at his wife. "Well, it seems we're going to have a houseguest. Maureen apparently is going into labor, and Grady's afraid it will take her as long this time as it did with Brianna; so he's asked if Brianna can stay with us overnight."

"With us?" Leslie echoed, very surprised. "Not with Noelle?"

"According to Grady, Brianna asked to stay here. Frankly, I suspect the attraction is the triplets. Most little girls love babies. Brianna's ten, and I have a feeling Grady and Maureen agreed to her request because they're hoping she'll learn enough about caring for babies to help them out when her sibling is finally born."

"True," Leslie said and grinned. "This should be interesting."

"Very," said Christian. "I understand that Brianna, who is quite particular about her food choices, is coming here armed with her own pillows, some dolls, some books, a large plush sheepdog that she can't sleep without, and even her own boxed lunch."

Leslie laughed. "I guess in that case, she won't even need the triplets for entertainment." On Christian's answering laugh, she peeled away Karina's diaper and groaned. "Oh, no. My word, Karina Skye, what've you been holding back from us?"

Christian peered at his daughter's diaper and his eyes widened. "That must be three days' worth of feedings." He stepped around Leslie and reached out to tickle Karina under the chin, grinning at her. "Do you know you just scared your poor mother? Look at all that! Are you proud of yourself?" He went on gently teasing the baby, grinning at her and getting more smiles out of her, while Leslie made swift work of removing the old diaper, cleaning the baby, and getting a fresh one on. She was fastening it securely when Christian lifted the sleeper Karina had been wearing and made an exaggerated face, holding it up by a thumb and forefinger. _"Ach, lillan min,_ I hope this washes out! _Ser du här, dehär är din stinkande sovdräkt…"_ Leslie started to laugh, and Karina smiled again, finally cracking Christian's straight face. "We're going to wake Susanna and Tobias if we go on like this," he chuckled at last, shaking his head. "Anyway, it'll be a while before Brianna gets here, since Grady isn't taking Maureen to the hospital right away. I think he wants to be certain she's really in labor and it's not a false alarm." Maureen had already had two of these.

"Good point," Leslie agreed, opening a drawer in the chest by the door and lifting out a clean sleeper in pale green with a bunch of colorful balloons appliquéd on the front. "Okay, baby girl, time for you to get a little sleep."

"Fat chance," Christian remarked humorously. "Look at her, she's all worked up now. You may have to sing her to sleep."

"I always meant to ask you, after I saw you singing to Tobias that one time," Leslie said. "Would you teach me that _jordisk_ lullaby you were using?"

Christian looked at her in surprise, then smiled, his eyes warming. "Of course, my darling, if you really want to learn it." Something seemed to occur to him at that point. "Uh, by the way…how long did it take for Maureen to give birth to Brianna?"

"Almost 28 hours," Leslie told him. Christian stared at her, and she giggled, lifting Karina to her shoulder and rocking the infant a bit. "Sorry, my love. About all we can do is hope the rule of thumb about second babies coming faster holds true in this case."

"Fate save us," Christian said and shook his head, grinning reluctantly. "Let's just hope the triplets provide plenty of distraction for Brianna in the meantime."


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- July 10, 2004

Jan-Martin Asplundh surveyed the main room of the bungalow he had been taken to and nodded in satisfaction. His luggage, including his precious violin case, had arrived ahead of him, and he was pleased to see a beautiful, highly polished grand piano in a recessed alcove where normally there would be a dining table. Asplundh had no need of a table; he ate while he was composing, for the most part, and tended not to notice what he was downing. It would be no different here; in fact he intended to concentrate harder than ever on the piece he was currently writing, for it was very special to him and he wanted it to be ready in time. He went through his suitcase to be sure his sheet music and his favorite mechanical pencil had been packed, tossing aside the clothing without heed till he uncovered his quarry. He quirked the briefest of smiles to himself. His housekeeper, Mildri, was the one who saw to his basic comforts, making sure he was properly fed and that he had clean clothes to wear. He himself cared nothing for such things. Mildri had the same attitude that Annika had—

Asplundh winced and instantly banished the memories. They had no place here; this week was much too important to waste. He picked up his violin case and toted it to the piano along with the sheet music and the pencil, carefully arranged everything atop the piano and then took a seat on the bench. Then he shifted sheets of staff paper till he found the half-finished piece, and sat for a moment humming it to himself and nodding slowly. It needed a lot of work, but that was all right. He had all intentions of working straight through the night and into the next morning.

"Sir?" asked a voice, startling him. He spun around on the bench and stared at the native islander standing in the doorway; the young man was shirtless and wore something that Asplundh supposed was Polynesian-style dress, but which looked to him like a cross between a loincloth and a skirt.

"What is it?" he asked shortly. "I am busy."

"Mr. Roarke's request, sir. He told me to see if you needed anything."

"No, young man, I need nothing more than what I already have. If I become hungry, I will notify someone. Now kindly leave me in peace so that I can get to work."

"Yes, sir," the young man replied respectfully, gave him a partial bow and backed out the door, pulling it shut behind him. Immediately forgetting about the encounter, Asplundh spun back around on the bench, sat for a few minutes gathering his thoughts, and then got down to work. The remainder of the morning got away from him, and he barely noticed when three of Roarke's employees arrived with lunch. Nor did he really recall eating it, much less what it was he was eating. By the time Asplundh surfaced long enough to realize he needed to take a break for necessities, it was past three in the afternoon and he'd grown frustrated with the composition. Something wasn't working, and he realized he needed to get away from it.

Asplundh considered calling Roarke, then changed his mind and struck off on his own instead, arbitrarily choosing a path that led west. To his dismay, what he thought was endless jungle thinned out within ten minutes and gave way to what was unmistakably a town square. He paused at its edge and surveyed the assorted businesses there: a bank, a movie theater, a café, a gift shop, a computer-services business, the island police station, a jewelry store… Something caught his attention and he backtracked, squinting. Just as he had thought, the name of the computer shop was "Enstad Computer Services". So the prince truly had moved his headquarters to this island.

Asplundh stood there and reread the shop's name over and over, wondering. Was the prince happy with the girl he had married? Did his wife treat him right? Did his employees here show him the proper respect? What sort of life did he live here on this little tropical paradise, so different from the rugged North Sea island where he had been born and raised? _Perhaps,_ Asplundh thought, _Prince Christian will answer all these questions for me and more when I meet him at last. Perhaps then he will realize that someone truly does care._ He drew in a deep breath, let it out, and then spotted a music store next to something called the All-Natural Products shop. _How much influence does His Highness have here, I wonder?_ Asplundh struck out across the square for the shop and let himself in; there were enough customers browsing the aisles that no one took particular notice of him. He worked his way towards the back of the shop, where there was a sign that said CLASSICAL hanging from the ceiling, marking the section containing CDs of music in that genre.

Halfway there, he stopped short and stared. To his utter disbelief, he recognized Prince Christian standing not far away with his wife, looking over some CDs. Asplundh couldn't keep from staring. He, like all other citizens of Lilla Jordsö, was very familiar with the prince from countless photographs over the years, but there had never been that many of his wife. He had never seen her in person, and now he watched openly, squinting critically as she and the prince bent their heads over a disc. After a moment she nodded, and the prince murmured something, perhaps in agreement. Then he turned to the large stroller that sat beside him and leaned down to tickle the chin of one of the babies in it.

Asplundh's breath caught and his heart seemed to squeeze. Images flashed madly through his head and he closed his eyes so tightly he saw colored lights behind the lids; but he couldn't stop the mad rush of memories and imaginings. "No," he whispered in his own tongue, shook his head sharply once or twice, and turned away, blindly stumbling out of the shop. He wasn't ready for this, not yet. Besides, his work wasn't finished yet…

At that point Christian was just saying, "Is there anything you're interested in? We can stay here and browse till we hear from Grady—my mobile phone is still on."

"I wanted to check and see if there's a new Foster Sisters CD out," said Leslie. "They really make some great music."

"Who would they be?" Christian asked.

"They're a group consisting of four sisters and their cousin. They were here several years ago for a fantasy—actually it was right after you were trapped in that marriage to Marina and you'd managed to have the reception held here on the island. Remember when I told you one of the sisters had overdosed on a drug and Marina told us it was black lightning, so that Father could get the proper antidote?"

"Oh, yes," Christian said. "So their fantasy came true, I take it."

"Yup, thanks to Michiko," Leslie said. "She took them in hand and got their career off the ground, and now they're doing really well. She told me the other day that they should have just released their third album."

Christian nodded. "Well enough. After that I think we may as well drop into my office just to see if things are going all right—" Just then his cell phone vibrated in his shirt pocket and he pulled it out, turning towards Leslie and bending his head. "Hello? Ah, hello, Grady. Of course, we'll be home very shortly. Good luck. Right, then." He ended the call and smiled regretfully. "You'll have to make that check very quick, my Rose, and we'll have to forgo the trip to the office. Maureen is definitely in labor, and Grady wants to drop off Brianna and get her to the hospital."

"It'll take just a few seconds," Leslie promised, and she hurried to the F's and searched quickly through them. Christian smiled when she pulled out a CD and came back to join him and the triplets; he took the disc from her and went to the cashier with it while Leslie wheeled the stroller out to the car and set about strapping each triplet firmly into a car seat. Neither of them had even noticed the older man who had stared at them earlier and then rushed out of the store as if in a panic.

‡ ‡ ‡

When the phone in Asplundh's bungalow rang around seven that evening, he was very annoyed; he was in the middle of a complicated passage and wanted no interruptions. He tried to ignore it, but it went on ringing, and at last he growled, spat out several hefty _jordiska_ curses and went to answer it. "Who is this?" he demanded.

"This is Mr. Roarke," said the voice on the other end. "I am merely checking to be certain everything is all right."

"You need not bother," Asplundh said curtly. "I am busy."

"Have you taken any breaks?" Roarke asked.

Asplundh snorted and said sarcastically, "I took one break this afternoon and suffered for my pains. Mr. Roarke, I insist that you simply ignore me until I am ready. At this rate neither my latest composition nor I will be ready for many days, and I cannot afford to remain here for more than a month at most. Is there a purpose to your call?"

Roarke was infinitely patient, which for some reason irritated Asplundh. "I make it a point to be certain my guests are comfortable and lack for nothing," he said, "and so it is with you. Since you tell me you are indeed comfortable and lacking for nothing, I thank you for your time. Good evening." He hung up then, and the surprised composer eyed the phone receiver before slowly putting it back.

He really wasn't ready yet at all. However, upon examination of the composition as it stood thus far, he discovered that he was closer to ready than he'd thought. When Asplundh thought back over the day, he realized that he'd had far fewer interruptions than he was used to enduring at home, and as a result he had gotten more work done than he'd expected. For the first time that day, he smiled to himself. If he kept working throughout the night, perhaps he'd be ready as soon as tomorrow evening. He could just hear Mildri now, scolding him roundly for neglecting his most basic physical needs. But Jan-Martin Asplundh needed less sleep than most people, and certainly less than his housekeeper thought he did. He gave one nod of satisfaction and sat back down at the piano bench, once again turning his full concentration to his music.

At the main house, Roarke considered Asplundh's attitude for a moment after he hung up with the composer. He'd certainly had his share of celebrity guests here over the decades he'd been operating his resort, and was accustomed to their quirks and demands. But something about Jan-Martin Asplundh made him wonder. It was very seldom that he had so secretive a guest, and one who didn't even seem all that eager to have his fantasy granted to boot. Roarke was more than willing to give the man all the privacy he wanted, but he was still concerned. There was no reason to let Christian and Leslie know about his guest's presence just yet. When Asplundh indicated he was ready, he'd notify them then, and perhaps Asplundh would somehow find whatever it was he was looking for.

He picked up the phone and dialed three numbers, then waited through the buzzes. Then, to his surprise, a child's voice said, "Hello?"

"Have I reached the correct number?" Roarke asked, slightly puzzled. "I am trying to contact my daughter, Leslie."

"Yup, this is the right number," said the child and giggled. "Hi, Mr. Roarke. It's me, Brianna Harding. My mom's about to have our baby, and I'm staying with the Enstads. I wanted to play with the babies and help take care of them."

"I see!" said Roarke, amused. "I'm sure you're very excited about your new brother or sister, Brianna."

"Uh-huh," Brianna said. "I hope I get a baby sister, though. My best friend Noelle says brothers are really awful. Her brother Alexander's such a pain. He always teases us whenever we play at her house. Anyway, the triplets are lots of fun. Miss Leslie let me hold one of them, and she smiled at me, Mr. Roarke!"

Roarke grinned. "Indeed! Well, if Leslie isn't busy at the moment, perhaps I could speak with her."

"I'll get her," said Brianna, and he waited for a moment or two. Then he heard a sleepy mumble in what he presumed was Leslie's voice, and chuckled.

"I assume that was meant to be a greeting," he teased her.

Leslie snickered. "Well, that was its intent," she said, "but I think it fell apart somewhere between my brain and my mouth. The triplets are almost done with a feeding—Karina finished first, as usual, and Brianna's holding her and playing with her. I have a feeling Karina's going to be our gregarious one. She smiles at anyone who smiles at her first."

"So Karina at least is smiling, then," Roarke said, delighted. "Perhaps, if you and Christian are willing, you'll bring them here for a while and let me see my grandchildren smile at me as well. Has Susanna or Tobias smiled yet?"

"Not so far," said Leslie. "It probably won't be long, though. Christian's got Susanna on the bottle right now, and I have Tobias—hungriest baby I ever knew of. In a few years he's probably going to eat us out of house and home. So what's happening?"

"As you might say, the usual," Roarke replied. "You might want to tell Christian to keep his evenings free this week, however…"

"Oh?" said Leslie, sounding distracted. "Any special reason?"

"Perhaps," Roarke said, and he sensed her attention sharpening, somehow. "No, I won't reveal any more than that. But as I said, I'd be glad to have you two and the babies pay a visit, and I'm sure Mariki will be delighted to see the triplets as well."

Leslie giggled and said, "Well, tell her she doesn't get to feed them." Roarke laughed, and they said their farewells and hung up. Roarke sat back in his chair, considered the surprising boost in the population during the last decade and a half or so, and smiled. Not so long ago he'd spoken with Mother Nature and thanked her for helping to keep things in balance. It was always saddening when one of those he had sworn so long ago to hold under his covert protection died, but it was necessary. As he had told Leslie once, the life cycle must continue on Fantasy Island as much as anywhere else on earth. It had been a while since he had visited the fishing village, and he decided to take a short break in the afternoon lull and make a little trip down that way.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- July 11, 2004

"That's great news!" Leslie exclaimed and hung up, turning to a curious Christian and an excited Brianna. "Guess what, Brianna—you have a new baby sister. Her name will be April Joyanne Harding, and she was born about twenty minutes ago. Your dad's coming home for a while and let your mom get some rest."

"Cool, I got the sister I wanted!" Brianna exclaimed happily. "I bet April can be best friends with Karina and Susanna, just like I'm best friends with Noelle."

"I'm sure she can," Christian agreed.

Leslie grinned and concurred, "I think so too. I wish I knew where Maureen comes up with these unusual middle names. I love what she does with them."

"Joyanne?" Christian murmured, considering it. "It seems to take two ordinary names and combine them to make something fresh and different. She has a talent for that. If we do ever have another child, my Rose, maybe we should ask Maureen for help with names."

Leslie laughed and said, "I think we have enough with the triplets. Anyway, if you want to go ahead and pack up your stuff, Brianna, you'll be ready when your dad gets here."

Christian looked oddly at the phone and then at Leslie while Brianna ran off to the guest suite where she had slept the night before. "Grady's coming home, you say? Was he planning to inform the rest of our friends?"

"He probably meant to leave that to me," Leslie remarked with a grin. "He sounded pretty worn out—like he was probably awake all night waiting for word on Maureen and the baby. I wonder if he'll be able to stay awake to spend any time with Brianna."

When Grady pulled his car to a stop in the foot of the Hardings' driveway and rang the Enstads' doorbell, Christian and Leslie could see that he did look very tired. "You must have been awake the entire night," Christian commented.

"Yeah, pacing the floor and wondering why the hell it takes Maureen forever to give birth to a baby. Brianna took almost 28 hours, and April wasn't much better—she took a little over twenty." Grady rolled his eyes and yawned while Leslie winced in sympathy for Maureen and Christian chuckled, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Believe me," he said, "I can understand that all too well. Oh…my Rose, would you see what's keeping Brianna? Grady, why don't you come in for a moment? Would you like anything? Coffee, perhaps?"

"Actually," Grady admitted apologetically, "I thought I'd stop by and ask if you'd mind letting Brianna stay through the day. If she'd rather go over to the Okadas', that's fine with me…but I really need to catch up on my sleep, and I have to do it today because I was dumb enough to schedule appointments with clients for tomorrow."

"I see," said Christian and smiled. "Well, we can—oh, there she is." Leslie hadn't made it across the living room before Brianna came back lugging the bags she had brought with her the previous afternoon.

"Hi, Daddy," Brianna said eagerly. "Did you see the new baby?"

Grady managed a tired smile at his daughter and nodded, ruffling her hair. "Sure did, and she's all red and wrinkled, but she'll fill out and get as pretty as you. Listen, chick, I've gotta get some sleep. Would you be mad if I asked you to stay here today? If you want to go to Noelle's, that's okay, just let them know and they can tell me."

Brianna thought it over, then shrugged. "I think I'd rather stay here. I can keep helping with the triplets, and that way I can help Mom with April later when they come home." She frowned and looked up at Grady. "When're they coming home, Daddy?"

"Don't know yet, chick," Grady said. "Don't worry, Mom'll probably give us a ring from the hospital and let us know. I'll see you later on, okay?"

Brianna nodded, but thrust her bags at him. "Will you put those in my room, Daddy?"

Grady grinned, matching Christian's and Leslie's amused looks. "Okay, I'll do that. I'll probably have you come on home about suppertime, okay?" Brianna nodded, and he turned to Christian and shook hands. "Thanks, Christian, and you too, Leslie. This'll at least give me a chance to get back to something close to humanity again. See you later."

When he was gone Brianna looked hopefully at Leslie. "Miss Leslie, would it be okay if I call Noelle and tell her I have a baby sister now?"

"Sure, go ahead," Leslie said with a smile, and Brianna ran to the phone. "You know," Leslie went on thoughtfully, "maybe this afternoon we could take the babies up to see Father. He's hoping to catch Karina smiling, and maybe Susanna and Tobias will be more willing to follow her example. They're all so comfortable with him."

Christian said, "Of course they are, even if he's seen them only a few times since they were born. It's that way he has about him that makes even infants warm up to him instantly and without hesitation. Besides," he added with a faint smirk, "I'd like to see if I can get him to tell me why I need to keep my evenings open all week."

‡ ‡ ‡

The reason for Roarke's comment was even now running through his composition on his violin, hoping to figure out precisely how to end it. Writing this piece had been the work of nearly six months as it was, and it bothered him; he rarely had to labor this long over any music. But deep inside, he knew why. It was a happy piece of music, and happy wasn't his specialty. Asplundh paused in the middle of the piece, letting a violin note die quietly in the air, and in spite of himself was overtaken by his memories of that fateful day so many years before, the day when his life and purpose had changed totally and forever.

When he remembered Annika's first shriek, though, he shook his head hard, trying to stop the recollection as though it were a filmstrip he could just yank out of the projector. It wouldn't let him be, though, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "No," he moaned through his teeth. "For fate's sake, no…"

The phone rang, and for once he welcomed it, for it sent the horrible memories fleeing back into the depths of his brain. Carefully Asplundh set the violin and bow aside and hurried to answer it. "Yes?"

"Good morning, Mr. Asplundh…how is the work going?" inquired Roarke's voice.

"More quickly than I expected," he said. "If I can have uninterrupted peace through at least late in the afternoon, I may be ready."

Roarke's voice warmed. "Wonderful," he said. "Have you any needs?"

"Now? No, nothing," Asplundh replied. _Nothing except the need to destroy the memory once and for all._ "I thank you, Mr. Roarke. When I'm ready, I'll contact you."

"You're all right?" Roarke inquired, suddenly sounding concerned.

"Yes, I am fine," Asplundh said firmly. "Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Roarke." He hung up, hoping to forestall any further reminders. He had to get back to the music.

At the main house Roarke slowly put the phone receiver back into place and thought about Jan-Martin Asplundh for a while. On an impulse he arose and went to the computer, which thanks to a tip from Christian was now hooked up to a continuous 24-hour Internet connection that could be accessed at any time, and soon had initiated a search for the composer online. To his surprise there was just about nothing. Even the most popular online encyclopedia had merely a bare-bones entry consisting of only two paragraphs, which discussed his music and very little else.

_Mr. Asplundh is much more of a hermit than I realized,_ Roarke considered, frowning at the screen. _I doubt there's another celebrity as secretive as he, and he has many shadows in his past. What is he hiding? I believe Christian is the key to the entire mystery, but even he cannot unlock it until Mr. Asplundh is ready for their meeting. Patience,_ Roarke counseled himself, _is the order of the day here._ It might be the order of the week, for that matter. He chuckled shortly, clicked off the Internet and returned to his desk.

‡ ‡ ‡

Brianna had decided shortly before lunch to go over to the Okadas' house after all; so Christian and Leslie loaded up the triplets—leaving Ingrid to relax and have a little time for herself—and drove her there, saying a quick hello to Nick and Myeko, before proceeding to the main house with the babies. They were in time to join Roarke on the veranda for the midday meal, with the triplets in their stroller napping while the adults ate. Mariki couldn't resist fawning over the babies for a moment or two before going back to the kitchen, with an air of satisfaction about her that announced she was delighted to have more to feed than only Roarke, for a change.

"So your friend Maureen has had her baby, then," Roarke said, once the three had served themselves and had begun to eat.

"Yup," said Leslie, "she had a girl—seventeen and a half inches long and seven pounds, five ounces. They're naming her April Joyanne. I was telling Christian before about the way Maureen comes up with unusual middle names, and he said we ought to consult with her if we ever have another baby."

On Roarke's laugh, Christian said, "I don't think Leslie is willing to have another baby. She says the triplets are enough for her. Perhaps we should have talked with Maureen before the triplets got here, considering the trouble we had naming them."

Roarke remarked, "I think you two did a fine job all on your own. Brianna must be delighted to have a sister."

"She's thrilled to death," said Leslie. "She had to tell Noelle, of course, and then she wanted to go over to the Okadas', so we notified Grady and then dropped her off there. In fact, that reminds me…kind of obliquely, but it does. Michiko thinks we should all have a big get-together someplace, before she has to go back to Arcolos."

"I thought she had decided to stay through August," Roarke said quizzically.

"She did," said Leslie, "but I have a feeling she'll suggest it be at her parents' house, and she'll probably have to talk them into the whole thing first. That could take a while." They all laughed quietly. "It reminded me that it'll probably be the first time in years that the Tokitas have seen Noelle and Alexander. They're familiar with Toki's boys by his second wife, but they—and Toki for that matter—rarely see Myeko's two, even though they live a lot closer. Mr. and Mrs. Tokita are afraid of disrupting Myeko's new life and marriage, according to Michiko, but Toki's only excuse is just plain laziness."

Christian dipped a hunk of crusty garlic bread into his marinara sauce, a frown forming on his face. "I've never met this Toki, but he sounds…well, forgive me for making such assumptions, but he sounds somewhat neglectful."

"He is," Leslie remarked. "In my less-than-humble opinion you haven't really missed anything by not having met him. After he and Myeko were divorced, he had a habit of being late with his child-support payments, and he saw them maybe once a month. Then he got remarried, and suddenly wife number two was popping out babies, and after a while Myeko told me that Noelle was sick of going to visit Toki. He and his wife kept having boys, and Noelle hated being the only girl, plus Myeko said she claimed all the attention was going to the babies. When Myeko and Nick got married, Noelle began flat-out refusing to go see Toki anymore, and Alexander used to go alone, till he got bored because he's so much older than his half-brothers. He quit going too, not too long after that Christmas. In the process their visits with Mr. and Mrs. Tokita fell off too, and Myeko was never really comfortable around them anyway, so she didn't press the issue. And Toki never pursued it. It's his loss and I don't care for his sake, but I do for his parents."

"_Herregud,"_ mumbled Christian. "Quite the situation. It sounds as if perhaps Michiko is hoping to rectify the situation if she possibly can."

"She may have a difficult task before her," Roarke said. "How much contact do Noelle and Alexander have with Dr. Okada's mother, Leslie?"

"Maybe a couple times a year or so," Leslie said. "She comes out as much as she can to see Dawn, though she treats Noelle and Alexander as if they were her grandchildren too. They think the world of her, and they love Myeko's parents, so they aren't lacking for the attention of grandparents. But I think they should know their paternal grandparents, and I bet Michiko thinks the same thing."

Christian put in, "Does she think they should also know Toki?"

Leslie thought about it for a moment. "Funny," she said slowly, "I don't know. Not that I know a lot about the situation, but I've gathered mostly from observation over the years that Toki's something of the family black sheep." She saw surprise and some sympathy cross Christian's features, and made a face that elicited a puzzled look from him. "Don't get to feeling too sorry for him, my love. It was his own choice. His parents love him as much as they do his siblings, but he insisted on doing what he liked, no matter what. Toki's not the sort to listen to advice, and he doesn't know the meaning of the word 'subtle'."

Christian regarded her for a long, amused moment, then looked at Roarke and asked, "Am I wrong in drawing the conclusion that Leslie dislikes Toki immensely?"

Roarke laughed heartily at Leslie's eye-roll. "No, Christian, you're not wrong at all. It goes back all the way to Leslie's initial arrival on the island. She came home from school one day before a full month had gone by, telling me that Toki had halfheartedly asked her to go to the beach with him and had been quite stunned when she turned him down in favor of helping Tattoo and me—enough that he reacted as if she didn't have all her mental faculties, to paraphrase Leslie's words. He had quite the crush on her and didn't understand why she was reluctant to spend time with him."

"I felt I owed Father something for giving me a home," Leslie put in, "and at any rate, I still wasn't fourteen yet and boys scared me. Not only that, but Toki's attitude suggested he couldn't believe I'd choose what he thought of as work over a date with him. It made him seem conceited and convinced of his own irresistibility, and that offended me. He acted offended in turn, and that killed any chance of even a friendship between us. After that he made fun of me every chance he got, and I grew to really hate him."

"Ah, I see," Christian mused, his eyes alight with amusement, but his face carefully expressionless. "And this has been a permanent state, then?"

Leslie shrugged, a little sheepish in the face of Christian's reaction. "Well, yes."

"Actually, despite his treatment of Leslie through all those years, he always had a crush on her," Roarke picked up the story. "A little less than a year before you met her, Christian, he came here and actually asked me to grant him a fantasy that would cause Leslie to fall in love with him—even temporarily." Christian sat up straight and Roarke grinned. "Of course, I tried to impress upon him that it was not only impossible, but morally objectionable, since it was tantamount to manipulating another person's emotions. He finally agreed to a simple conversation with her. Leslie was reluctant, but she agreed."

"So what happened?" Christian asked his wife.

She sighed and said, "I wound up talking with him at the pond restaurant. He actually had the idea that with him divorced and me widowed, all he had to do was declare himself and I'd fall at his feet. Needless to say, that didn't happen. I tried to give him a little advice, though I knew even at the time that it'd probably go in one ear and out the other." She thought for a moment, then suddenly chuckled voicelessly at some memory and gave Christian another sheepish look. "I was still mourning Teppo and wearing the ring he had given me at our wedding, and I remember telling Toki about that jinx I thought I was under and that—as I believed then—there wasn't any room in my heart to try to love again, and I didn't want to put the burden of the alleged 'jinx' on someone else. How little I knew! I still had a lot of learning and growing up to do."

Christian grinned. "Perhaps, but in this instance I have to admit to being grateful that you felt the way you did at that time. Do you know if he took your advice?"

"I don't have a clue, but I think I at least got through to him that I not only didn't return his feelings but couldn't even bring myself to like the guy platonically. I was always lucky that it didn't turn into a bone of contention between me and Myeko, because she had a crush on him from the time I first got to know her, and maybe before that. We talked not too long after I spoke with Toki, and she shocked me by telling me that she'd always known he had a crush on me and that I couldn't stand him. I remember thinking over that conversation that night after I'd gone to bed and was waiting to fall asleep, and deciding that the only reason it never came between us must have been because, since she knew I hated him, I was no threat to her hopes to become Toki's girlfriend."

Christian burst out laughing. "That seems to me to be as good a reason as any. Well, whatever Michiko's intentions may be in regard to this get-together she envisions, I can only hope there won't be any awkwardness." He took a bite of his pasta and grinned. "Mariki's done another outstanding job. Now if she'd give Ingrid this recipe…"


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- July 13, 2004

Christian frowned, looking through drawers in his computer desk on Tuesday morning. "I had no idea I was so low on ink," he muttered aloud, while Leslie was trying to set up the triplets on a big quilt in an easy chair so she could take a photo of them. "It looks as if I'll have to go into town and get some more. Maybe I'll just wait for Janine to get here, then take her in myself and drop her off at the grocery while I get what I need and stop in at the office."

Leslie looked around. "You, low on any computer supply? You astound me, my love," she teased, and he looked back at her and grinned.

"Shocking, isn't it?" he agreed good-naturedly. Then he noticed what she was doing with the babies and stood up straight to stare openly. "What exactly are you trying to achieve over there, my Rose?"

"I just want to pose the triplets for a picture I can keep in a photo album and make copies of, to send to your family in Lilla Jordsö," she said. "Now if Susanna would quit squirming, and if Tobias would stop grabbing handfuls of Karina's dress in his fist…"

Christian laughed and approached, kneeling in front of the chair. "They may be feeling a bit crowded in that chair," he observed. "It's fortunate for you that they haven't really started moving a lot just yet, or by now one of them would probably have fallen to the floor." Tobias grunted, and Christian grinned at him. "I see you agree with me, son. Maybe you can tell your mother and get her to listen, so she'll settle for individual photos."

"Oh, really…spoil my fun," Leslie said, and he grinned again. At that precise moment Tobias responded with his first smile, and instantly his parents were beside themselves. "Did you see that?" Christian cried, at the same moment Leslie burst out, "Look, he smiled!" Their excitement got them a smile out of Karina, and Leslie giggled deliriously while Christian reached out towards Susanna and tickled her under the chin, trying to coax a smile out of her as well but without success. Leslie kissed the top of Tobias' head and gently tickled the tummies of all three of her babies, feeling quite on top of the world.

Then the doorbell rang, the triplets started, and their parents' heads automatically turned toward the doorway of the room. "That's likely to be Janine," Christian said. "I'll take care of it…if you don't think you'll need any further help with these three imps."

Leslie grinned and suggested, "You could send Ingrid in to help out." He nodded, then left the room and headed downstairs, compiling a mental list of things he needed and subjects he wanted to discuss with his employees as he went. He found Ingrid in the kitchen, told her to go up and help Leslie with the triplets, and opened the front door.

"Hi," Janine Polidari said cheerfully. "Sure is nice to see you again."

"Hmm, same here," Christian murmured distractedly, going to the table and pulling out a notepad. "Why don't you sit down for a few minutes, Janine. I need to make a couple of lists. There are a few things I need to get, and I may as well take you in myself so I can do that and have a chat with my employees." He didn't see the brightening expression on her face, just took a chair and began writing.

From overhead there was a sudden exclamation, and both Christian and Janine looked at the ceiling. "What was that?" Janine asked.

Christian chuckled. "I expect Leslie's showing Tobias off to Ingrid. We finally saw him smile just a bit ago. We still can't get Susanna to do it, but I suppose she'll smile in her own time. I honestly had no idea it would be such fun to be a father." Still chuckling, he returned to his list, while Janine made a face to herself at the idea of having kids and sat in silence, content just to watch him.

In the car she ventured a new conversation. "Are you planning to take the triplets to Lilla Jordsö sometime soon?"

Christian glanced at her. "I'm sure we will, but probably not for a few months just yet, unless something comes up. They're a bit young to travel, I think, especially such a long distance. And with three of them, it would be that much more difficult. But they'll learn to be as familiar with it as they'll be with Fantasy Island…"

"That makes sense," Janine put in. "They're princesses and a prince, after all, right?"

Christian snorted and said in amusement, "That remains to be seen. If I had my way, they'd be just ordinary children."

Janine stared at him, clearly amazed. "Wow. But lots of little girls like to pretend they're princesses, did you know that? I bet Karina and Susanna do the same thing. Maybe even Tobias'll pretend he's a prince, too, especially when he finds out he's related to royalty and his dad was a prince." She giggled and admitted, "I used to pretend I was a princess. It seems kinda silly now, I guess, but I mean…the whole idea of being royal, getting to wear glamorous clothes and meet people and be famous and the whole thing. I always thought Princess Diana was so cool. I cried for two hours when I heard she died."

"It was a very sad event, yes," Christian murmured, remembering the trip he and his siblings, his nieces and nephews, and Marina had undertaken to pay their condolences to Princes Charles, William and Harry.

Janine read his expression. "Did you go to England for the funeral, Mr. Enstad?" At his nod, she exclaimed, "Wow! Oh my God, that would've had me bawling for the rest of the day. Everyone must've been crying." Christian simply smiled and let her babble on for a while, his mind on other matters.

Then Janine said, "Oh, and by the way…" bringing him back to the moment. When she paused, he glanced at her.

Obligingly he filled in the breach. "Yes?"

"I brought you something," she said with a smile. "I bet you'll really be surprised by it. I got this recipe off the net too."

_Fate save me,_ Christian groaned silently, _I thought she was done with trying to feed me!_ "Janine, it truly isn't necessary for you to do that," he said.

"But I like doing it," she protested brightly. "My mom thinks it's cool that I'm finally starting to have an interest in cooking." The girl giggled. "Man, if she only knew. I'm doing it for your benefit, not ours."

Christian slanted her an uneasy sidelong glance, relieved to see the town square just ahead. "It could be a very handy thing for you, as a matter of fact," he said, "if you're taking a domestic-studies class next year in school."

Janine screwed up her face at that and announced, "I don't even intend to be here when school starts." She shot him a superior smile. "I'm going to be back home in Boston by then. I'm planning to ask my dad's parents to let me live with them, and I can go back to my old school with my old friends. All the money you're paying me for doing your grocery shopping? That's going into a savings account, and it'll pay for my plane ticket back home."

"Will it, then," Christian murmured, astonished. What was he supposed to do with this bit of news? It was with enormous relief that he stopped the car in front of the entrance to the pedestrian shopping area and handed her the grocery list. "Well, here you are. Don't feel you have to rush, just take the usual time. I'll wait for you if I finish before you do."

"Sure, Mr. Enstad," said Janine and started to swing out of the car, then paused. "You know something, though? When I go back home, I'm really gonna miss you." She smiled at him once more, then jumped out and headed down the brick walk.

Christian stared after her, then jolted back to reality and let the car coast to a parking space at his own storefront. He could tell that Janine had every intention of returning to Boston as she had said; but he wasn't sure how successful she'd be. He had only his own nieces and nephews to use as measuring sticks for the way teenagers acted. Anna-Kristina had made a success of fleeing all the way to Fantasy Island without anyone else's knowledge about a year before he and Leslie had been married, as he recalled; but she had been in her twenties at the time, and moreover, she had had practically unlimited financial resources at her disposal. Atop that, she was used to taking charge, being a princess, and had grown up expecting people to obey her commands and let her have her own way.

But Janine was an ordinary teenager, using her own money; and if Christian's calculations were correct, she'd have less than six hundred dollars by the time summer ended and she was scheduled to return to school. She was barely seventeen—he remembered her mentioning at least three times on Saturday that her birthday was on the 19th—and he had a feeling that her grandparents didn't know about this, never mind her parents.

But was it really his place to say anything? He suspected that even if Janine did try to launch her grand plan to go back home, it would fall through at some point, so that telling someone wouldn't be necessary. Yet…what if she were one of those who did manage to make it work? Would he then be to blame for not having notified someone?

Not only that, Christian realized with a twinge of guilt, but there was a tiny bit of him that hoped she'd succeed in achieving her goal. It would save him the problem of dealing with her crush on him. He let out a loud, exasperated sigh and got out of the car, about to stride down the way to a shop to pick up the ink he needed—and caught sight of an older man standing in front of the bank, gazing at him. He paused, just long enough for the man to come to attention and then turn and hurry away.

Christian watched till he disappeared down the Ring Road in the direction of the bungalows, and out of the blue had the feeling he'd been through something similar once before, perhaps years ago. Try as he might, he couldn't nail it down, and finally gave up and got started on his original errand. He'd have quite a bit to tell Leslie about when he got home later that day.

‡ ‡ ‡

Jan-Martin Asplundh was surprised and annoyed to find himself shaking. Was he really that uptight over meeting the prince? Yes, come to think of it, he was. There was so much at stake this time. But, wonder of wonders, the new composition was just about ready now, and after one final runthrough he intended to inform Roarke that the time had come—as long as the piece sounded right to his exacting ears.

Too often the music he wrote had a way of bringing back memories he wanted no part of. This time, too, he remembered, but for once the memories were gently nostalgic. As he recorded the piano that provided the underpinning for the melody, preparatory to playing the accompanying violin that was its centerpiece, he recalled the near-constant news coverage that he'd kept such oddly careful track of, the not-quite-chance sightings, the fateful meeting that had allowed him to live the life he did now, the one unexpected encounter. All this hard work and determination to get the composition exactly right was for the prince, and all Asplundh could do was hope that it met with the young man's approval when they at last came face to face. He intended that this would be the evening it happened.

The piano rendition came out flawlessly; he rewound the tape, then started it up and picked up his violin and bow. He didn't need the sheet music to play the piece; it simply flowed out of him, almost tattooed into his brain what with all the work he had done on it in the past months. As he played, he smiled, ever so slightly.

When it was complete, he nodded once, put the violin and bow atop the piano with care, then went to the phone and called the main house. "Mr. Roarke…I am ready," was all he said.

To Roarke's credit, he understood without further explanation. "Very well, Mr. Asplundh," he said. "I'll notify Christian. What time would you like the meeting to take place?"

"Seven o'clock," Asplundh decided. "And I want you to impress upon the prince that this meeting is between him and me, no one else—not even his wife and children. What I wish to tell him is for no one else's ears."

"Very well," Roarke said again. "I'll see you at seven, then."

‡ ‡ ‡

By the time Christian got done at his office, he was more than a little skittish about the trip home with Janine. Not only did the girl have a crush on him, but she was becoming more and more open with it; and he still didn't know what to do with her announcement that she was planning to go back to Boston. He almost mentioned it to Jonathan or Julianne, then backed out at the last moment. He wasn't part of the family, and he didn't honestly think it was his place to say anything to them. But how else would they find out except at the last minute? He hoped maybe Leslie would have some ideas; he himself was too confused to think very clearly.

He was even more spooked after Janine finished loading bags into the car and then presented him with a covered bowl. "These are for you," she said. "You can nuke 'em if you want to…I guess they're supposed to be eaten hot. And I had to substitute pita for the big biscuits, because I can't bake anything without it turning into a hockey puck."

The word _biscuits_ told Christian she had made (or attempted to make) _frykostfikkor_, the "breakfast pockets" that he had always enjoyed in his bachelor days. They were oversized, hollowed-out biscuits filled with scrambled eggs that were mixed with different types of meat, such as sausage, ham, lobster, salmon, or very occasionally bacon, along with bits of red and green peppers and a quick dash of garlic salt. They were nothing fancy, but Christian had grown up with a lot of fancy food and had always tended to go for plain homestyle cooking whenever he had a chance to make his own choices.

He realized she was watching him with the bowl outstretched, an expectant smile on her face, and he cleared his throat. "Janine, really, this isn't necessary," he protested.

"I wanted to do it, though," she said. "I mean…it gave me a chance to try something new, 'cause I ate the first examples and then made better ones for you, see. And I figured you probably miss a lot of food you grew up with. Heck, I mean, if I could make Boston baked beans and molasses bread like my grandma does, I'd do it in a heartbeat. It's awful hard to be so far away from home in a strange place like this, and I figured it would help your homesickness if I tried coming up with some stuff you like from home." She thrust the bowl at him. "Let me know if they taste the way you remember them."

Christian, with the terrible sense that he'd hurt her feelings if he turned her down, reluctantly accepted the bowl. "Well…thank you," he said slowly, glancing at it. "But truly, Janine, you don't need to do this in the future."

"Well…then I could maybe do something else," she said, looking a little confused and perhaps a bit hurt. "I could…"

"Please, no, don't feel as if you must," Christian insisted, shaking his head. "Janine…" He stopped, suddenly getting a case of cold feet. "Uh…why don't we just go on back."

She nodded, slowly turned aside and got into the car. Neither said anything on the way back to the Enclave; Janine seemed wounded, and Christian felt strapped into the hot seat. Crushes were easy enough to ignore on the large scale, he realized glumly; but when he had as much personal contact with the holder of one as he'd had with Janine the past several weeks, they could no longer be simply dismissed and forgotten about. He was going to have to set this girl straight or else endure her misplaced attentions for the rest of the summer.

At home she helped him carry bags into the house; he was relieved to see Leslie in the living room, preparing the triplets for their next feeding, and Ingrid in the kitchen putting together a bottle. Ingrid set about putting away the groceries, while Christian took twenty-five dollars from his wallet and paid Janine. "Thank you, and we'll see you on Saturday," he said quietly.

"Sure, Mr. Enstad," Janine murmured, compressed her lips and quickly left. Christian ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head.

Leslie saw him through the passthrough. "Christian?"

He looked up at her. "Are you all right?"

"Fine…but how about you? Do you want to talk about it?" she suggested.

"Actually, yes, I do," he said through another sigh. "Let's get the babies started on their feeding, and then I'll tell you what happened."

Ingrid came out with a bottle for Tobias, and as soon as she returned to the kitchen, Leslie put Karina and Susanna to the breast while Christian settled Tobias into the crook of his left arm and held the bottle for him with his right. He sat more or less sideways on the sofa, facing Leslie, who glanced at him once the girls were busily nursing. "So tell me," she said. "You look a little spooked, my love."

"I think I am," Christian admitted. "It's Janine. Her expressions of affection, if you will, have been a bit awkward, but bearable enough. But this time I got a bit of insight into a possible reason for her crush." He told Leslie about the latest culinary offering Janine had pressed upon him, then frowned, looking at Tobias for a moment and managing a smile at the baby. "She tells me," he finally informed Leslie, "that she fully intends to return to Boston and live with her father's parents. She said she's saving the money we pay her for the grocery shopping, and her plan is to use it to buy transportation to Massachusetts."

Leslie's eyes widened. "Oh boy," she said and smiled knowingly. "And if I bet my entire salary for next year that her mother and sister don't know about her grand plan, I'm sure I'd win big."

"I'm sure of it too," said Christian. "But it presents me with a problem. Now that I know, should I tell her mother, or even Jonathan or Julianne? If I do, it may well be seen as interference with what should properly be a family matter—but if I don't, and something happens to Janine in the process of trying to execute her intentions, I'd be held responsible because I knew about it and didn't say anything."

Leslie nodded slowly and said, "I see what you mean. So you're convinced that she's determined to do this, and she isn't just making threats?"

"No, I believe she fully intends to go, and that's because of what she said when she gave me the _frykostfikkor_—the insight I gained on her crush. She's far away from where she was born and raised, and longs to go back. I too am far away from where I was born and raised, and as a result she's drawn the conclusion that I'm as homesick for Lilla Jordsö as she is for Massachusetts. Thus, she's been trying to ease what she thinks is a longing for home by preparing _jordiska_ dishes for me."

Leslie's mouth dropped open with amazement and she stared at him. Susanna let out a little hiccup, and for a moment her attention was diverted while she made sure the baby was all right; then she looked at Christian again. "So," she mumbled finally.

Christian raised an eyebrow at her. "Funny how harmless it all sounds, isn't it?" he remarked. "Yet I sense there's more to her crush on me than just a perceived common bond. She thinks I haven't been watching her, I suspect, because occasionally I catch glimpses of her reactions to certain statements or situations." He cleared his throat, his tone becoming uncertain and hesitant. "I think she feels more than just idol-worship, or whatever it is. She must have…daydreams about me, perhaps…since at times, when I mention the triplets, I can see a…revolted look on her face. Sometimes I've seen it when…when she mentions you too, my darling. It seems that she…"

When he let the last sentence hang, Leslie smiled faintly. "I think I get it. It sounds like you suspect she thinks she's in love with you, and resents the triplets' presence and the fact that you're married to me."

"Yes, I think so," Christian admitted. "Not that this hasn't happened before, I imagine. But this time it's different, because I have personal contact with her. Before, I was always out of reach; not now. Because I see her twice a week, it allows her imagination to run wild, coming up with new scenarios and new ideas."

Leslie looked thoughtfully down at Karina and Susanna in turns, smiling absently at her daughters, and then looked back up at her husband. "Well," she said slowly, "in the matter of the crush, I think you'll have to handle that one, my love. But as far as her plans to go back to Boston are concerned, if she's really as serious as she seems, it might be the wiser thing to tell someone. If you want, the next time Jonathan comes around to see Ingrid, drop a bug in his ear. He doesn't have to know about the crush; you can just mention to him that Janine's saving money to go home and doesn't plan to come back. It'd be enough."

"You don't think it would be seen as interference from an outsider?" Christian asked.

"No," Leslie said. "I mean, think about it. We've seen strong signs that support the supposition that she really means to carry out her plan. As Father said a while ago, she's incredibly homesick, talks about Boston a lot, she likely resents Andrea for dragging her here and away from her friends and everything she ever knew, and refuses to settle in here—and now she's announced she's saving to go home. The fact that she told you says something to me, too—her crush on you is strong enough that she trusts you with her secret."

Christian's hazel eyes widened with alarm. "Don't put it that way!"

Leslie giggled. "Unfortunately, my love, it's true. Think about it this way—if she thinks you went off and blabbed to her mother, it might kill her crush on you."

"Oh, for fate's sake!" Christian muttered, making her laugh and causing both Karina and Tobias to smile around their suckling. "That would be a hell of a way to put an end to it, wouldn't it!" He looked up at her with a sudden reluctant grin. "In fact, when she said what she did about saving to go back, I recall thinking that if she succeeded in returning, I'd no longer have to deal with the crush."

Leslie laughed again. "Well, there you are. It's getting out of hand and it's making you uncomfortable. I think it's better if you have a little talk with her."

"It won't be so easy," Christian confessed, sighing yet again. "I had plenty of confidence before in the idea that I could set her straight, but that was before it got so personal. I told her she really didn't have to go on cooking for me, and she seemed quite hurt by my reaction to her latest offering. It made me feel guilty."

"That's a good sign," Leslie offered with a smile. "It means you'll deal with her gently and not just tell her brutally that she's a baby and a nuisance and to stop pestering you with her ridiculous notions of puppy love."

Christian snorted with reluctant laughter. "All right, if you say so, my darling." Before they could go on, the phone rang, and all three triplets startled, as per reflex. Even Leslie and Christian flinched slightly with surprise. "I'll take care of that," Christian said and arose with Tobias in his arms, going to the phone and setting his son's bottle aside just long enough to pick up. He trapped the receiver between his shoulder and ear, grabbed the bottle and put it back into Tobias' mouth before the baby's indignant mewlings could grow into full-fledged wailing, and said, "Hello."

"Hello, Christian, this is Mr. Roarke," said the voice on the other end. "I hope you have nothing planned for this evening."

Christian chuckled and said, "Nothing besides an exciting evening playing with the babies and trying to make Susanna smile. Why do you ask?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to come to the main house at about seven," Roarke said. "There's someone here you'll be meeting. Leslie and the triplets can come along, of course…although the guest in question prefers to speak with you alone."

"I see," said Christian slowly, quite surprised. "All right, that shouldn't be a problem. May I ask who it is who wishes to speak with me?"

"You'll find out this evening," Roarke promised him. "Thank you, Christian, and we'll see you then."

"Of course," Christian murmured, and stood staring into space for a moment while Roarke hung up. Ingrid turned from her cleaning operations and peered at him.

"Your Highness?" she asked in _jordiska_. "Shall I hang up the phone for you?"

It was Christian who started now. "Oh…yes, go ahead, thank you." She came over and took the receiver, and he returned to the living room with Tobias, puzzling.

"Who was that?" Leslie asked curiously.

"Your father," Christian said, sitting on the sofa beside her again. "He's asked us to come to the main house around seven this evening. Apparently he has a guest who wants to have a few words with me."

Leslie blinked. "Uh-oh. You don't suppose it's some disgruntled customer?" Her eyes twinkled, and he chuckled in response.

"I should hope not," he said in the same spirit. "Ah, well, we'll know soon enough. In the meantime, let's get these imps fed, and maybe they'll be ready for a little nap."


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- July 13, 2004

Christian and Leslie apologized to Roarke for being slightly tardy when they met him on the porch at the main house. "I guess we need to get out more with the babies," Leslie remarked a little sheepishly. "We still haven't quite gotten used to how long it takes to prepare three infants for an outing."

Roarke chuckled. "You're really not so late," he assured them. "Besides, it's always good to see the two of you. Leslie, why don't you take the babies into the side yard there and sit at one of the tables with them, and I'll join you shortly. Christian, come with me, please." He led the bewildered former prince into the outer foyer and paused for a moment.

"I realize," he said, "that you're confused, but please indulge me—this is part of a fantasy. My guest will explain himself shortly."

Christian nodded. "Well enough, Mr. Roarke," he said. "I admit to a little trepidation, though. Leslie made a joke about it being an upset customer of mine."

Roarke chuckled and assured him, "Oh, it's nothing of the sort, believe me. In fact, I think you'll find this conversation most interesting." He led Christian through into the inner foyer, where they both could see an older man with a full head of silvering hair sitting in one of the chairs at Roarke's desk. "Just go inside and join my guest there. If at any time you need to speak with me, just go to one of the windows and open the shutter. Leslie and I will be in the yard with the triplets."

"All right," Christian agreed, and ventured forward and into the study when Roarke gestured ahead. While his father-in-law retreated and pulled the door closed behind him, Christian started for the remaining chair, then stopped short when the man already there turned, spied him, stood up and bowed to him.

"Your Highness," he said in _jordiska_.

Automatically Christian acknowledged the bow with a nod, staring curiously at the other man. "Forgive me, but I'm afraid you have my advantage…" he began, taking the man's cue and using his native tongue as well.

A slight smile flickered in and out on the other man's face. "My apologies, Your Highness," he said. "My name is Jan-Martin Asplundh."

Christian gaped, astounded and awed all at once. After a moment he managed, "If you only knew what an honor it is to meet you!"

Asplundh blinked. "Excuse me?"

Christian grinned, slightly embarrassed. "Perhaps I sound like some besotted fool, but the truth is, I've been a fan of yours since my childhood. It all began with _Melodin till violsdansen_, and from that time on I was hooked." He cleared his throat. "Please, sit down, don't feel so formal in my presence. Surely you know I'm not technically a prince anymore."

Asplundh coughed once or twice and nodded, but he waited till Christian had settled into a chair before resuming his own seat. "I knew, yes, but…it hardly seems real."

"Too often I forget," Christian admitted cheerfully. "Tell me, what brings you all the way here? I presume you're aware that you have a certain reputation…"

"I know full well I am a hermit, yes," Asplundh said with another brief, faint smile. "But it was my express and specific wish to meet you, Prince Christian, in person, at last, and Mr. Roarke was kind enough to indulge my eccentricities in the course of granting me that wish. I found it necessary to complete a new piece of music before I…" He paused, then looked away and frowned. "No, I think it better to be honest, Your Highness. It's true I meant to finish my latest composition, but I was…wary. Afraid."

"Afraid?" Christian parroted blankly. "Of what?"

"That if, when you did finally meet me," Asplundh said baldly, "your perceptions of my music would change, now that you had an acquaintance with its flawed composer."

Christian drew in a slow breath and leaned forward in his chair, meeting Asplundh's gaze with an earnest stare. "Believe me, _herr_ Asplundh, that could never happen. Flawed you might be, but that makes no difference to me. I'm no more perfect than you or anyone else. You must understand what your music has meant to me through all these years. I've had many low periods in my life, and your compositions have sustained me through them all. I don't know how you do it; but your music somehow gives voice to my darkest emotions and helps me to express them. If it hadn't been for that, I might not be fit to be among people. Those emotions would have remained bottled inside me, hidden away and allowed to ferment and grow. But I never had words for them—only your music could communicate them. It _speaks_ to me, _herr_ Asplundh, like nothing else ever has." He looked down for a moment, cleared his throat and swallowed before lifting his eyes again. "When Mother died, I closed myself in my flat for the better part of a week, playing your music nonstop, all day. When I ran out of tears but the emotions refused to ease, your music provided the outlet they needed to keep from completely destroying me."

Asplundh gaped at him, obviously astounded. "I had no idea…" he whispered.

"Your music sustained me," Christian told him intensely, "from an early age—through my father's repeated tantrums and criticism, through my brother's continuation of that, through lonely days and nights and the loss of my mother, through the abomination of my first marriage and the despair of my second. It even gave voice to my love for my wife when I was certain I would never be allowed to make a life with her."

The two sat there staring, the one with raw feeling, the other with astonishment and wonder. After a good minute or more of charged silence, Asplundh closed his eyes and pulled in a long, sustaining breath before he spoke. "Your Highness, please forgive me in advance if all this sounds somewhat presumptuous to you. But in light of what you've just told me, it seems only fair to me that you know.

"I've watched you from a distance through all those years. You came to my attention from the time you were born, Your Highness. I…I admit to resenting your parents then, for having had a healthy child. I resented King Lukas for his triumphant presentation of you to the country, I resented Princess Susanna for bearing you, I resented you for living…"

Again Asplundh breathed deeply, while Christian stared at him, wide-eyed with disbelief, confusion and curiosity. "But then I read of rumors that Prince Arnulf also resented your existence, and I wondered what father could be so cruel and cold to his own child. I wished I could explain to him what it means to be entrusted with the care and happiness of a child. I was furious with him when it was revealed that you had contracted pneumonia and that Prince Arnulf would not have greatly mourned your demise. How I wanted to shake sense into him. It was then that I realized I could hardly fault you for living when…when…" Asplundh stopped, swallowed thickly and shook his head. "Well, I began to secretly think of you as a sort of surrogate son. I quietly followed your progress as you grew from infancy into childhood, as you began school, appeared with the rest of the royal family at press conferences. Sometimes I made special pilgrimages into Sundborg when I knew the royal family would be there, just to catch a quick glimpse of you.

"When you were not quite six, my debut album was released. I had struggled to get the music right, had tried to express everything I had known in my miserable life till then—till I became, well, attached to you. My final composition for that record was _Melodin till violsdansen_. You see, Your Highness, that piece was written with you in mind, initially. It was meant to express the carefree happiness of early childhood, to capture your joy and curiosity and interest in the world around you—I could see it, yes, through photographs and later, television appearances featuring you. My housekeeper at the time was the first to hear the piece, and made a chance remark that it was utterly perfect for our national dance. I thought that might gain it some acceptance, so that I could make my breakthrough in the recording industry, and thus gave it the title it holds."

"That's how I discovered your music," Christian said. "Like my siblings, I was required to go through what amounts to a course in how to be a prince—the Royal Comportment classes that we in the family have a habit of making fun of as we grow up. Among my first lessons was how to perform _violsdansen_, and the instructor used your piece to aid the initial demonstration. The dance itself escaped me because the music so captivated me. I insisted on knowing who wrote it, and he told me; after that I had one consuming goal—to obtain my own copy of that record."

Asplundh smiled and said gently, "Yes, I know that, Your Highness. In the summer of 1965, I received a summons from Queen Susanna. She wanted to have a private audience with me, which astounded me; I didn't believe I was that well-known even within Lilla Jordsö. I arrived at the castle on the appointed date and was shown into a lovely sitting room. The queen was very gracious, very kind, and surprisingly open and friendly. She welcomed me, offered me refreshments, and put me at ease with a little small talk—and then she shocked me by informing me that you were very attached to my music. After I had followed you through the seven years of your life, it seemed incredible to have made such a connection with you, even though it wasn't face-to-face. Her Majesty told me that after you had shown such interest in and devotion to my work, she herself had listened to it and begun to understand, 'to some degree' as she said, what so captivated you. Therefore, she told me, she was granting me an annual stipend that would allow me to at last forgo the need for an outside job and concentrate entirely on composing. She said the quality of my music was too fine for me to be hindered in any way, and she further told me that she knew you would enjoy whatever came from my pen in the future.

"She even offered to introduce you and me, but…I begged her not to. I wasn't ready, I couldn't face it yet." He must have seen Christian's bewilderment on his face, for he gave a wan smile of apology. "I'll explain it shortly, Your Highness. In any case, Queen Susanna honored my request, wished me well and saw me out herself. Since that time I have been able to indulge my hermitdom—perhaps not the best thing for me in retrospect, but it removed my need to deal with human beings every day. I had hoped vaguely to make a living on my music, but I had never expected it to happen as it did. With Her Majesty's promise of an income, I was able to give my work the attention it required."

"Mother had true foresight," Christian said with a note of wonder in his voice. "She did the entire country a great favor."

Asplundh smiled a little. "I'm honored, Your Highness. I dared not tell Her Majesty that I had quietly been following you as you grew up; I merely wanted to be able to continue to watch, from my own distance. You were always a bright, cheerful boy, and I felt an odd sort of pride in you." He paused for a moment and studied Christian minutely. "Tell me about your wife, Your Highness. Roarke's daughter. Does she make you happy? Give you the respect you deserve as a prince? Treat you right?"

"All that and far more," Christian said softly. "_Herr_ Asplundh, Leslie is very much the love of my life—the only woman I've ever been able to fall in love with. Without her my life would hardly be worth anything, for all the accomplishments I may have achieved throughout. She's given me everything that's made my life what it is now, everything that's made me truly happy for the first time since I was perhaps too young to remember. I love her deeply, and I can't imagine living without her. It would be impossible."

Asplundh nodded, seeing the truth of Christian's words on his face, in his eyes. "You may understand what I've been through, then." He took another breath, closed his eyes, seemed to brace himself. Christian could see him stiffen in his chair. "I lost what was dearest to my heart, Your Highness. My wife, Annika, was all I had ever dreamed of. She wanted nothing more than to give me a child. But her health was delicate…and she died in childbirth. To make matters worse, our son was stillborn." While Christian was blinking in startlement at this, Asplundh opened his eyes and added quietly, bleakly, "And above all this, it happened on June 25, 1958—the same day you were born. Thus my initial resentment of you for living, your mother for successfully bearing you, because my wife had failed in bearing our son and he had failed to survive, through no fault of their own. That's why I grew to consider you a sort of…of 'replacement son', if you will, Your Highness. You and my son Jakob would have been exactly the same age."

"_Herregud,"_ breathed Christian, stunned. "Ach—no wonder your music is so filled with anguish. It…it _cries, herr_ Asplundh, it truly does. And in the process it reached into me and grabbed my soul…" He swallowed hard. "The coincidence…"

"Perhaps it was meant to be," Asplundh said softly, "though far be it from me to try to understand why. To this day I still secretly look upon you as my surrogate son. I don't ask you to regard me as anything more than a man who writes music; but I wanted to tell you this, for I was finally ready to take that last step."

"I can only imagine what you must have felt that day," Christian said, barely above a whisper. "If I were to lose Leslie in such a way, it would devastate me; I'd only wish to die. It's a measure of your inner strength that you chose to continue and to express yourself through the music that's meant so much to me. I don't think I could have risen above the madness in my life if it hadn't been for that."

The two looked at each other for a moment or two; then Asplundh smiled, genuinely this time, and sustained it. "If you'd so honor me, Your Highness, I'd find it a privilege to meet your wife and your children."

"I hoped you'd be willing," Christian said, returning the smile. "One moment, let me tell Mr. Roarke." He arose and went to the nearest window, pulling away the shutter and signaling at Roarke when the latter man's attention focused on him. Roarke nodded and arose, saying something to Leslie before crossing the yard.

A few minutes later Leslie came in with the triplets in their stroller, and Christian met her concerned look with a smile. "It's very much all right, my Rose. I want you to meet none other than Jan-Martin Asplundh. _Herr_ Asplundh," he went on while Leslie's face registered astonishment, "this is my wife Leslie, the light of my entire life."

"It…it's a pleasure," Leslie managed, blinking.

"Equally so," said Asplundh, smiling at her and offering a shallow bow. "It seems you make Prince Christian extremely happy, and I'm glad of that. I've confessed to him that I regard him as a bit of a surrogate son, and as a result I feel unduly protective of the prince, even though I have no right. But he clearly loves you more than his own life, and that's good enough for me. My only question is, do you love him?"

"With every atom in me," Leslie said solemnly, nodding. "Christian's the best thing that ever happened to me. He made me see that it was possible to love someone wholly, without fear." She looked at Christian and smiled, and he smiled back, slipping an arm around her. "You're okay, my love?"

Christian nodded and planted a kiss on her lips. "Completely, my darling. And before I neglect them, _herr_ Asplundh, I want you to meet our triplets—Susanna Shannon, Karina Skye, and Tobias Lukas Roarke."

"They're all beautiful babies," Asplundh said, settling back into his chair and leaning forward, elbows resting on knees, to get a better look at the three wide-eyed babies. "But it must have been a bit of a surprise to have so many at once."

"We'd planned on three children," Christian wisecracked, "but we didn't mean for them all to come at the same time." They all laughed, even Asplundh, though his laugh sounded a little rusty. "No, we actually hadn't talked about how many we wanted, but to get three at once decided us that they're all we need."

"And you named one of them for Queen Susanna as well," Asplundh noted softly with a smile. "It's fitting." He cleared his throat, got back onto his feet and studied Christian and Leslie at some length. "Perhaps you'll allow me to give you two a humble gift."

"What sort of gift, exactly?" Christian asked a little warily.

Asplundh's smile grew. "It's my latest composition," he said. "I realize I have asked you both, separately, to confirm the strength of your love for each other; but it's quite visible in the way you hold each other and look at each other. I want the two of you to hear this as soon as possible, if Mr. Roarke can arrange it."

"Why would you give it to us?" Leslie asked.

"Because I wrote it for you," Asplundh replied simply. "It's very simple, but it's bright and soft and filled with all the love that I imagine, and observe, that you two feel for each other. It wasn't originally meant to be for you, I confess. I started out writing it for my long-dead wife Annika, and I wanted it to express all the love I felt for her. But it was too lively, too happy, to express that, for I still miss Annika with every passing day, and it's still difficult to think of her without sorrow. I've dedicated one of my other compositions to her. This one is for you. I thought I might call it 'The Enstads' Waltz', but somehow the title seems…inadequate. I wish I could think of a better one."

Christian grinned, looked at Leslie and remarked, "Well, maybe we could help, do you think, my Rose? I'd hate to think it didn't have a proper name." Leslie giggled.

"What is that you call her, Your Highness?" Asplundh asked.

Christian chuckled and said, "It's a nickname I came up with for her not long after I met her. There's an unusual species of rose that seems to grow only on this island, and when Leslie told me she didn't know whether it had a name—either common or botanical—I told her I would call it the Leslie Rose, and her as well. I'd all but forgotten the flowers, but the nickname has stuck ever since. It evolved from 'Leslie Rose' to 'my Rose' over time."

Asplundh nodded, looking amused. "I see…" Then his expression changed and he blinked rapidly several times. "That's it exactly!" he exclaimed. "The perfect title! What else could I call it but 'The Prince and the Rose'!"

"But you could keep the original title and put it in parentheses, maybe," Leslie offered a little timidly. "Do you think that'd be all right?"

Asplundh focused curiously on her, and Christian grinned at her. "If _herr_ Asplundh likes it, I have no objections."

Asplundh beamed at that. "I can't object if the prince doesn't. The waltz is yours, but it will be on my next album." He came to Christian and grasped his hands. "Mr. Roarke told me when I first arrived here that I should not remain secretive for long, for he couldn't help me if I did. And now I understand what he meant. Meeting you, Your Highness, and telling you of my observances of you, and hearing what my music has done for you, has given me a feeling of hope that I haven't had since Annika and Jakob died. It makes me believe that I could at last be happy, in some small measure, after all these years. If you will please excuse me, Your Highness, I'll speak with Mr. Roarke now about an orchestra to perform that waltz. For I'll not be happy until you and your wife have danced together to it." He hurried out to find Roarke, and Christian watched him go, slowly shaking his head a little.

"You must have found out a lot…" Leslie ventured.

Christian focused on her and smiled at her. "Oh, I did indeed, my darling," he said, pulling her close and holding her. "I did indeed. I promise I'll tell you later on, but for now I think I'll just consider what I've learned—not to mention looking forward to hearing the newest Jan-Martin Asplundh composition."


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- July 16, 2004

The music filled the room with a surprising lightness, a tinkling, skipping quality to it that almost made Leslie want to break loose from Christian and twirl around the dance floor in time to it. But Christian's features were so alight with joy that she was content to stay in his arms, watching him listen animatedly to Asplundh's latest waltz. Now and then he'd look down at her and grin, and she'd grin happily back.

It had amazed Leslie when Christian had told her all the things he and Asplundh had talked about a few afternoons before. "Now that I think back," Christian had remarked, "I can recall seeing him once in town before we spoke…in fact, that same day. I had just dropped off Janine to get the groceries, and I was about to go about my own errands when I noticed him staring at me. It gave me déjà vu, but I wasn't sure why."

"Wow," Leslie had murmured. "Maybe he'd been afraid to talk to you."

"He was, then," Christian had said. "But I still have the sense that it happened before. I just wish I could remember where…if in fact it did happen before."

The music wound down and Christian slowed the pace of their dancing, bringing her back to the present moment. Those watching them broke into applause, though Christian and Leslie knew it was really meant for the music. The president of the recording company that put out Asplundh's albums had flown out to Fantasy Island just to hear this piece, had been treated to a meeting with Christian, and was now exclaiming enthusiastically over the waltz. Roarke came to his daughter and son-in-law and smiled. "Though I am no expert judge of Mr. Asplundh's music, I do believe this is my personal favorite of those pieces I have heard since you introduced us to his music, Christian."

Christian chuckled. "I don't know if I ever had a favorite piece. Perhaps it's _Melodin till violsdansen_, I don't know. Ah…hello, _herr_ Asplundh…superb work, as always. I knew I couldn't possibly be disappointed. And Leslie here looked as if she would have sprouted wings and _flown_ to the music, had she been able to."

Asplundh laughed with the others and patted Leslie's shoulder. "I could see your enjoyment in your face. Your Highness, your praise is deeply welcomed—that and your faithful patronage of my work over all these years despite its limited distribution. How you ever found that little shop near Dalslund, I'll never know…"

Christian started violently and gasped. "It was you, that day!" he burst out. "Now I remember! I spotted you in the town square the other day, and for some reason I had a sense that it had happened before, though for the life of me I couldn't grasp the memory. It's just come back to me. On my 35th birthday I went to that shop to see if you had released any new work, and I nearly collided with someone. _Herregud_, it was you, wasn't it? To think I've met you before and never knew it!"

Asplundh laughed. "Yes, it was I, Your Highness," he assured the prince. "I dared not tell you who I was then, any more than I did before I completed this composition three days ago. For me, recognition was anathema. I merely wished to watch in secret."

"You can't keep it such a secret any longer," Christian remarked, chuckling. "But I hope it doesn't mean you retire from composing. While I don't necessarily need the music to express my darker emotions now that I'm so happy with Leslie and my children, I do always appreciate the great care and effort you put into it, and I'll always be eager to hear new work. Please be well and happy, and rest assured I'll inform my niece that she is to continue the annual stipend for as long as you live."

Asplundh bowed deeply. "My profuse thanks, Your Highness." He straightened and turned to Roarke. "Mr. Roarke, again, I apologize for my gruffness and reticence over the first several days I was here. I am afraid I was awaiting something of an enlightenment that I never dreamed I would experience. I thank you sincerely for tolerating me and for granting me that one simple wish. Perhaps now, not all my music will be as bleak."

"You have a great gift, Mr. Asplundh," Roarke said warmly. "However you use it, you know that it will be appreciated by those with the insight to see its genius."

"And I suspect there are more of those than you know," Christian agreed.

Late that evening they saw both Asplundh and the record-company president off on the charter, and Leslie let out a little sigh as she began securing babies into car seats for the trip home. Roarke and Christian both caught it and gave her a curious look. "Is there something wrong, Leslie?" Roarke inquired.

"I love being home with Christian and the triplets," Leslie said, "but after today I just realized exactly how much I miss helping with the fantasies on the weekends. I can't wait till I'm able to bring the babies here and let Mariki and the kitchen staff babysit, the way they keep bugging me to let them do, while I'm working."

"I thought you meant to come back at the end of August," Christian said. "Or have you changed your plans?"

"Well, I wanted to go on breast-feeding till they started on solid foods," Leslie said, "and that'd present something of an obstacle to performing my job. I don't know if there's really any way to work around it. Maybe by September I'll think of something. I need to ask Dr. Corbett when she thinks they'll be ready for solids." She made a face. "Speaking of solids, we're almost out again. How can we eat so much so fast?"

"We're feeding another adult, you know," Christian pointed out, "and that will deplete a food supply quickly. And I think you've been eating everything you ever heard of that you like, in an attempt to keep the triplets from becoming fussy eaters later." He and Roarke laughed at the new face she made.

"Well, I know one thing, Janine's going to have a lot to handle." She glanced at Christian, whose expression became suddenly pensive.

Roarke saw it too, and asked, "Has something happened?"

"Ah…well, her crush seems to have become stronger somehow, and I may have discovered one of the reasons for it." Christian explained to Roarke the things Janine had said the previous Tuesday, especially the revelation of her saving to go back to Boston.

Roarke smiled. "I expect the process of saving money is very slow for her; with airfares being what they are, she's not likely to have enough for the flights to Honolulu, Los Angeles and Boston all together. But if you're deeply concerned, Christian, you might mention something to one of her relatives; or Leslie, you might even say something to Camille if Christian doesn't feel comfortable doing so. I believe it's better that Janine's mother knows in any event, for she will have to come to terms with the changes in her life sooner or later. This way the family can deal with the problem."

"But what of her crush?" Christian asked a little plaintively. "I honestly don't think I can deal with it any longer, Mr. Roarke. It's different from the usual teenage crush on a celebrity—" he curled his lip on the last word, making Leslie and Roarke laugh— "because I have personal contact with her, whereas I didn't with any other possible crushes. I don't want to fire her, because she does a fine job; but the situation is awkward."

"Just be gentle with her, Christian," Roarke said. "Tell her you appreciate what she is doing for you and Leslie, but that she must remember there's a significant age difference, and that you are happily married and have children. You mentioned that she thinks you're homesick in the same way she is. You might tell her you're quite happy here. Just set the record straight, and then let it be. Janine must deal with it on her own."

Christian and Leslie looked at each other, nodded at the same moment, and smiled. "It won't be easy," Christian admitted, "but I suppose it'll be a lesson for me as well—dealing with teenagers. Good practice for my daughters in fifteen years or so." Leslie reached across the infant seats to swat him playfully on the arm, and they all laughed.

* * *

_Next: Christian goes straight from dealing with Janine's crush, to dealing with yet another time-travel fantasy that will have far-reaching effects, while Leslie finds herself watching from the sidelines with three babies who are very cranky about getting their shots!_


End file.
